


Your Hand In Friendship

by JordanUlysses



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanUlysses/pseuds/JordanUlysses
Summary: Sybil, Sam and Havelock are linked by love and friendship not only in the past, but also in the present.An attempt to explore their relationship.





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Siri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siri/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobs do strange things, like arranging marriages for their children ...  
> Or: Sybil has a question that puts Havelock in turmoil.  
> Set during "Guards! Guards!" and "Men at Arms".  
> 

The secretary only raised his head as Sybil entered the anteroom. His face was blank, and even though she generally did not care about formalities, the fact that he did not get up to greet her was a noticeable insult.  
“Mister Wonse, good morning,“ she said, cheerful in any case. “I would like to see his lordship.“  
“Good morning,” he replied, at least giving her a polite nod. “You do not have an appointment.”  
“Yes, but I'm sure he'll see me anyway. It's rather important.”  
“And as you can surely appreciate, his lordships activities are as well.”  
Sybil took a deep breath, her smile faltering only the merest amount. “Can you please go and ask him? It is an important, personal matter and I really need to talk to him.”  
Wonse studied her for a moment and then got up, his face impassive as he went to the door of the Oblong office and disappeared inside.

A few moments later he came out again, gesturing for Sybil to step through. She kept her smug smile to herself, instead concentrating on the nervousness coiled up in her belly, which slowly untangled as she walked towards the Patrician's desk. He had already gotten up and came around, bowing and kissing her hand.  
“Lady Sybil, what a nice surprise. Please, take a seat,” he waited until she had sat down to take his own place again.  
“Thank you,” Sybil heard the door closing behind her, and relaxed a tiny bit. “It's very kind of you to see me without an appointment.”  
“It is no trouble at all. What can I do for you?”

“Well …,” she cleared her throat, and looked down at his desk, the papers pushed into neat stacks, a pen thrown down beside its holder the only sign of disorder. “It's … I have met someone, someone who has grown very dear to me. And ...”  
“You are talking about Captain Vimes,” Vetinari interrupted and she felt her cheeks burning as she nodded.  
“And … and I would like to ask him … to marry me. I realise it's usually done the other way around, but …,” she looked at him now, not quite sure what to expect. There was no smile on his face, but his eyes seemed kind.  
“Congratulations,” he said softly. “But should you not ask him first, before spreading the news?” Now a smile appeared, fleetingly.  
“You know why I am here,” she said, feeling a bit helpless at his reaction. She really had not been able to imagine what he would say, or do, but now it seemed she had to say the whole piece. “If you … I mean. We are not … we have never really talked about it, but there has been a promise and while … I don't think it is an option for both of us, it seems rather wrong to just assume what you think.”  
The Patrician put his right hand in front of his mouth for a moment and then steepled his fingers, the kindness not gone from his eyes. “Lady Sybil,” he said. “I do have the utmost respect for you. And while we don't see each other very often, I consider you a friend,” she was about to say something, but he raised his hand. “A friendship that is very valuable to me, but is no more. No less, either. Our parents made a promise that I do not believe either of us took ever serious. You do not need my permission to marry whomever you want. But let me express … as your friend … concern about your choice.”  
She needed a moment to take in his words fully. “Concern?” she asked finally.  
“Surely you know that Vimes is a drunkard?”  
“I do, yes,” she said, feeling a pang of irritation. “I also know that he has behaved himself only in a kind and gentle way towards me. I'm sure that if I ask him, he would drink less.”  
“That is a rather bold assumption. An addiction is not easily cast aside.”  
“But I'll take care of him. He does not have anyone to take care of him and … I'm sure it won't be easy, but I do not frighten of the task.”  
“Commendable. He is also prone to rage, and he is practically married to his job.”  
“Practically, I am married to my dragons,” a smile appeared on both their faces. “Like I said, he has not shown me any unkindness.”  
“You thought it through then,” Vetinari said, the smile lingering.  
“Yes. And even if … the heart wants what it wants, does it not?” she asked, feeling another blush covering her cheeks. There was a flash of … something in his eyes and then, he got up and walked over to the window, his back towards her.  


“I suppose,” he said after a long moment. “It seems it will rain today.”  
“It smelled like it, yes,” she said, not quite sure what to make of the sudden change in topic.  
He nodded and then turned, the soft smile back on his face. “I do wish you all the best, Lady Sybil. And if Vimes has any sense in that thick head of his, then he'll surely go along with everything you want. He will be able to count himself very lucky indeed.”  
“I would be the lucky one,” she said. “I mean … I never wanted to marry, and then I met him and … sorry. I don't mean to babble,” she sat up straight. “Thank you, Havelock, for your consideration and your kind words. If he says yes -”  
“When,” Vetinari said.  
“You will be invited.”  
“I am looking forward to it. Now, I hate to throw you out, but I do have an appointment soon ...”  
“Oh, of course,” Sybil got to her feet in a moment. They looked at each other and then she walked over to him. “Thank you, again. We should meet for tea sometime, I would love that,” his beard was soft as she kissed his cheek, her hand resting on his arm for a moment.  
Vetinari bowed his head. 

There was a swirl of emotions as the door closed behind her. Most he tucked away safely, the lifelong practise easy by now. What stayed was a strange yearning in his chest, for something he had once wished for. 

It was true, the promise had been made by their parents, once upon a time. And Sybil surely had never taken it serious … but he had. Or at least … well. He had been 15, young and inexperienced and Sybil, even back then had been kind and fierce, following her own head and heart. She was something special. He had felt admiration, and maybe even something that could be called love. The thought of marriage had seemed an alien one, but with her … But there had been more important things and the present had become the past.  
Of course even Sybil would not have been able to love a tyrant. She liked him, and they were friends, but if she knew the things he had done, still did at times …

He moved abruptly, taking the papers he would need for the meeting with Doctor Cruces. He could still smell her perfume, all the way down to his waiting carriage. 

~*~*~*~

“Thank you“ the Patrician mumbled absentmindedly as Drumknott laid today's stack of letters on his desk. Out of the corner of his eyes he noted how the man bowed and quickly retreated.  
The Patrician sighed as the door to the Oblong Office shut behind him without any sound. The man was dutiful, hardworking, and thus everything a good secretary should be. A great secretary … well, a great one should have some initiative. Like Wonse had shown. At least … until he had shown too much. It was, the Patrician reflected, a fine line to walk indeed. Still, after all the exciting business with the dragon he was willing to settle on a good secretary for a while. And maybe Drumknott would turn out to be more than he seemed at first glance.  
He finished reading an intelligence report from Quirm and laid it down with another sigh. He took a sip of water and stared out of the window for a moment, until he caught himself and took the letters, quickly working his way through them. 

To his credit it should be said that he only blinked when he got to the letter at the bottom of the pile. He slit it open with his letter opener1. The gilt-embossed envelope had been written on by hand, the letters drawn in big loops. Of course Lady Sybil had taken care of the invitations … He peeked inside, years of cautiousness even now guiding his fingers as he slipped out the card, noting that there were no traces of a powder or other strange substances.  
Of course, what he should have guarded himself from weren't any poisons, but the actual words scrawling over the paper.  


_“You are hereby invited to the joyous occasion of the wedding of Lady Sybil Ramkin and Mister Samuel Vimes, ...”_

He put the card down and got up, wandering over the window.  
There it lay, Ankh-Morpork, sprawled out under his eyes, as far as he could see in the morning mist. And it lived and worked and that made it worth it, and if his heart felt strange, it did not matter. He had waited for this moment ever since she had visited him. The possibility that Vimes would decline her proposition had been negligible, not even Vimes would sabotage himself like that.  


He knew that this … feeling … ache … whatever it was his heart was doing right now would pass eventually. Maybe this would be good. Not now, not in a week when the wedding was to be held, and not for some time afterwards. But after that, it would be good. Or at least better.

Samuel Vimes was not a man women chased2. That thought had given him much comfort over the years. Still, he had known that this day would come. Sam was a good man, an honest man, and in that goodness and honesty he was more enticing and pulchritudinous than anything else the Patrician had ever seen. Sam was one of a kind, and one of a kind was always special.  
It had not been an easy decision, quite the contrary, to push Sam away all those years ago. But pushed he had – and necessary it had been. Someone in his position could not have any weaknesses. And it was an irony, though a well-guarded one, that Sam still was exactly that to him.  
Another irony was that Sybil would marry him. His first friend, his first love. The two people he genuinely cared about, despite his best efforts. And somehow, even through the pain and ache, the thought that they would take care of each other was comforting.  


So, he would follow the invitation. He would pick a wedding gift – something to annoy Vimes, because one had to allow for small pleasures –, he would dress in his best choice of dark blue (black was not a colour for a wedding after all) and would attend the ceremony at the Unseen University. And if he was not cheery for the occasion, no one would think about it twice. That was something else to be said for the reputation he had carefully crafted over the years.  
He returned to his desk, made a note for Drumknott – _answer with a yes_ –, and then took up another intelligence report from Quirm. Maybe he could impress on Sybil, carefully and subtly of course, that Quirm would be a wonderful place to move to. Incidentally, it would also remove a weakness that could be exploited.  


After all, suffering swamp dragons were to be found anywhere.

~*~*~*~*~

A fine instrument, probably the sharpest knife to be found in all the palace – it had opened a few assassins. Although there had been no need for that particular use for quite a few years.1  
Or at least he was not chased by women who wanted to marry him. Villains and bandits and criminals, of all sexes, were another matter, and of course, in their case the chasing usually went the other way.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story started out as a prequel to a RP Siri and I are writing, but I feel it stands on its own. I adore the Sybil/Sam/Havelock dynamic and want to explore it further.


	2. The Disappearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's going to be alright, isn't he?” she waited for a few heartbeats. “Isn't he? Can you say it, please?”  
> He looked at her, confused. “Would that change anything?”  
> “Can you be sure it doesn't?"  
> (Set sometime after "Men at Arms".)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the overwhelming positive feedback (thank you, thank you, thank you) on the first part, I felt inspired to continue the story. I am planning to write a third chapter, but as of now I am not yet sure in which direction to take it.  
> The title for the story is "Your Hand in Friendship", the first chapter is now named "The Proposal".  
> Also a big thank you to Siri for reading it over and finding annoying little mistakes.  
> 

The Patrician stood motionless at one of the windows of the Oblong Office, watching two darkly clad figures in the courtyard. He could not make out their faces, but when they separated, one leaving the Palace grounds, the other disappearing from his sight towards a door, he noted hunched shoulders and steps weighted down by worry. No news then.  
Back at his desk he put the papers he had been going through to the side, reports from the neighbouring villages and towns, no news from there as well; and then stared at the polished wood. There was a big stack of diplomatic letters and guild complaints to go through, or he could tackle the financial reports. Instead, he just sat, trying to calm his restlessness with steady breaths.  
A quiet knock and Drumknott came in, bowing before he approached the desk. Vetinari waved his hand before he could speak.  
“No news,” he said, voice level.  
“No news, Sir” Drumknott repeated. “But Captain Carrot sent word that he will keep today's eleven am.”  
The emotion uncurling in Havelock's chest did not show on his face. “Show him right in when he arrives,” he said instead and waved his hand again in dismissal.  
Drumknott lingered, as if to say something else, something foolish for sure, but after a moment only bowed and retreated. 

~*~*~*~

He looked up from the rows of numbers he was studying as the door opened and the Captain strode in. He saluted smartly and then sat as Vetinari indicated the chair on the left1.  
The imp in the clock in the anteroom banged, once, twice, and Vetinari waited until it had chimed for the eleventh time before he spoke.  
“Captain, I assume you have no news?”  
A sorrowful expression bloomed on Carrot's face, but while from everyone else Vetinari would have recoiled, here it felt comforting.  
“No news, Sir. We were able to increase the patrols, a lot of citizens are helping out, but there is no sign of him. Nobby and Fred finished their round through the bars -,” a raised eyebrow made him pause for a moment. “Sir, we do not actually believe that the Commander has relapsed. But he has disappeared for almost three days now and it would be foolish not to make sure. Sergeant Angua has also found no trace, but with the rains from two nights ago it's likely that his scent has washed away. Apart from the fact that we don't even know where to start looking.”  
There it was again, hopelessness, stretching up to his throat. He cleared it. “I need the crime statistics for last month.”  
“Yes Sir,” Carrot reached under his breast plate and produced a rolled up paper which he handed over. “We have also organised everything for the visit of the Klatchian dignitary. The plan is on the second page, waiting for your approval.”  
Vetinari put it to the side.  
“Sir, there is one other thing … the wizards, have they tried anything to find him?”  
“They have. If they had been successful, you would not be here,” he sighed. “Well, if that is all, I do sincerely hope I won't see you on Monday.”  
“Yes Sir,” Carrot got up and gave another salute. “I'm sure we'll find him,” he added, apparently not as smart as Drumknott, but somehow his platitude eased the tension Havelock was feeling for a moment.

~*~*~*~

The next day a brilliant blue sky was adorning the city. Havelock was resting on a stone bench in the Palace garden, Wuffles curled up on his lap. He was scratching his head, listening to the birds singing and for a few blissful moments forgot everything that was going on.  
Then, Drumknott coughed politely at his side.  
“Yes?” he turned his head, blinking against the sun shining into his face.  
“Sir, it's Sunday. The second one of the month.”  
“I am aware.”  
“You have an appointment at two o'clock.”  
“I don't think that it will take place today.”  
“Sir, that may be, but the last time you missed it the Lady was terribly upset.”  
That was true. Not that she had shown it in any incongruous way, but her words had stung where she meant them to.  
“Alright,” he carefully scooped the dozing dog onto his arms and stood up, handing him to Drumknott. “I suspect I will be back within the hour.”  
“I'll play a bit with him,” Drumknott set the dog down, who seemed to wake up properly and barked as the secretary pulled out a small ball.  
Havelock patted down his clothes, not managing to get rid of the dog hair and then hurried off with a smile still lingering on his face. 

~*~*~*~

If anything good had come out of the marriage of Lady Sybil Ramkin and Samuel Vimes, it was that Havelock was seeing Sybil on a more regular basis. Her invitation to tea had turned into another one, and soon they had established a pattern, meeting every second Sunday.  
Of course, Havelock saw Vimes much more often than his wife, although he did not consider that as something good. At least most days. At least … the heart was a complicated thing, was it not? For years he had been able to ignore it, to immerse himself and find joy in his work. And now, nearly every day at eleven am he had a meeting with Vimes, who slowly looked better and better. He took on some weight, wore clean clothes and, even though it was rare, had a happy smile and barking laugh. It reminded him of the young man he had known and loved. It reminded him of what could have been.  
The house seemed quiet as he watched it from the cover of a tree on the other side of the street. Sybil would not be in. The last couple of days she had been out in the streets, helping in the search for her husband. There was no reason why she would not be doing that right now. But their meetings still had a delicate character to them, a thread that could be easily pulled apart. Drumknott, even though he did not know the details, was right. Havelock would rather keep the appointment, even if it was in vain, on the slight chance that it was not.  


So, he made his way into a little side alley, climbing over the wall. The dragon pens were to the left and the house on his right, no sign of life here as well. He chose a window on the second floor this time, which was easily reached with the help of vines climbing over the wall. If Vimes was found he really needed to talk about it with him, it would only be a matter of time until the Commander was put on the list.  
He left his cane leaning against the wall and stretched, pulling himself up, higher and higher. His leg was only slightly protesting, and he was careful to put his weight on his other foot, for a moment dangling on the sill. As he climbed onto the ledge he found the window unlocked.  
Silently he entered. The room was stuffed with furniture, white sheets hiding a part of the Ramkin fortune. Quietly he made his way to the door and down the deserted corridor and the next staircase. The mauve coloured tea room was on the first floor and as he opened the door he found Sybil sitting at the table, tea and cake laid out as usual. 

“Lady Sybil,” he knocked and stepped in. She looked up and instantly he noted how tired and exhausted she looked, worry having taken the glow from her face, the energy that usually spilled over and made everyone glad to be in her presence.  
“Havelock, I was not sure you would come,” she smiled at him, her expression tinged by sadness.  
“I was not sure myself,” he approached and bent down to kiss her cheek.  
“I am glad you came in any case,” she said and indicated his usual chair. It was good to sit down and rest his leg for a bit.  
“Are there any news?” she asked and he could hear the hope in her voice.  
“No. My agents have been combing the city in addition to the Watch and volunteers, but so far nothing.”  
“I did not know you had your own men on the streets as well,” she said lightly after a moment, but he could hear a quiver in her voice.  
“Of course I have. It's in the city's best interest that the Commander is found.”  
“And yours?”  
“My interest is the city's,” he said. This was not the first time she had asked a question like that and he was not quite sure what to make of it. Did she know? Surely Vimes would not have told her, after having kept quiet for all those years. Did she suspect? She was very empathetic, so maybe she had picked up on something – which would mean that he had to be more careful.  
“I talked to the Archchancellor today,” Sybil said. “It seems there is some … interference in the city's magical field, which makes it impossible for them to locate anyone. I did not quite grasp how it works ...”  
“It's always the safest option not to bet on magic,” Havelock replied dryly.  
“It would be very convenient though,” she leaned back with a deep sigh. “I'm not sure what else to do. He's going to be alright, isn't he?” she waited for a few heartbeats. “Isn't he? Can you say it, please?”  
He looked at her, confused. “Would that change anything?”  
“Can you be sure it doesn't? Havelock, I do not know … I need him back. I realise that he works in a dangerous job, but … I did not know it would be this … agony.”  
“It is the first time something like this has happened since your wedding, is it not?”  
“He was beaten up that one time,” she said. “At least that is all I noticed. I think he shields me from most of it.”  
“There is no reason to worry you more than necessary.”  
“That is …,” she muttered something unladylike. “That is exactly what he says. And I realise that I'm not exactly helping my point right now … I have been raised for this, to support my husband, to wait patiently and quietly while he is off to do his duty. But the reality of it …,” she shook her head and without really thinking about it he reached over the table, putting his hand over hers.  
“He will be fine,” he said. “He will return with some outlandish tale, maybe a scratch or two, but that will be all.”  
“Thank you,” she said quietly and he squeezed her hand before letting go.  
“I hope you won't find me rude, but I would like to go out again. It's not easy to sit still,” she continued, adjusting her dress.  
“Of course,” he got up instantly. “Although I am glad we met. I can only imagine what you must be going through.”  
“I am very grateful that you made the time,” she got up as well and led the way to the door and down to the entrance hall. When they had descended the stairs she turned towards him and he was glad to see some of her spark again as she smiled at him.  
Before he could take a step back, she had approached and pulled him into a hug. He felt frozen, but then raised his arms to return it.  
He had not been entirely honest. He could very well imagine her feelings, the sheer terror at the thought that Vimes would not return. For years he had managed not to think about him, but ever since the events with the dragon Vimes had burst into his life again. It had not been easy to ignore his emotions – although it helped that his friendship with Sybil had grown stronger. Upsetting Sybil was the last thing he wanted to do and if all the other, perfectly logical reasons would not be enough, at least this would keep him from acting on them.  
He patted her shoulder, starting to feel quite awkward, when suddenly the door burst open. Sybil was too tall for him to look over her shoulder, but he recognized the voice. 

_“Sybil.”_

She gasped and let go, whirling around. Vimes was crushed into a hug before Havelock could get a good look, but he had seen that his clothes were crumpled and dirty, a streak of blood dried on his forehead and there was also an unpleasant smell accompanying him.  
Sybil was making strange noises and only after a moment Havelock realised that she was crying. He took a step back and looked down at the polished marble floor. He should probably just leave, but he also wanted to know what had happened. Had to make sure himself that Vimes was alright.  
They separated, although Sybil was still holding Vimes hand. “Are you hurt?” she asked.  
“I'm fine,” he said. “Got knocked over a few times,” he pointed to his head, “and I'm tired and hungry, but apart from that ...”  
“Let's sit down, alright? Willikins,” she called and then pulled Vimes into the next room and onto a sofa. The butler appeared and she gave a few orders, before she sat down at Vimes side.  
Havelock was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “What happened?” he asked, not able to hold himself back.  
Vimes looked up at him. “I got mugged. Was doing my usual round at night when I was cornered by three guys. Took my wallet and everything else, and made a run for it, so of course I followed them.”  
Havelock recognised the expression on Sybil's face, but they both held back for the moment.  
“They were quite clever, ran into that alley and one of them managed to get behind me. They knocked me out and then they must have realised who I was because they panicked. I had seen their faces, you know? They got me into this cellar and tied me up,” he shrugged. “Could have been worse, they brought me water and food and a blanket, so it was not too uncomfortable.”  
“How fortunate you had a good time,” Havelock said dryly. It was a testament to Sybil's state that she did not give him a sharp look.  
“And now you escaped?” she asked instead.  
“They let me escape. They arranged to skip town, and knocked me out again, must have been early this morning. Took off my bonds and left the cellar unlocked, so I could leave when I came to.”  
Someone coughed behind him and Havelock stepped aside to let the butler and a maid through. They laid everything out on the table – a basin filled with warm water, a first aid kit, a plate with sandwiches and a carafe. Sybil poured a glass and handed it to Vimes, who drank greedily.  
“I will send word to Captain Carrot, the Palace and the Sanctuary that the search can be ended,” Willikins said. “Sir, I am very glad to see you returned.”  
“Thank you, Willikins,” Vimes said, putting the glass down. Sybil had wet a cloth and started to clean the blood off Vimes forehead. The butler and the maid left the room again, Havelock now leaning against the wall.  
“So, was it worth it to chase them because of a wallet?” he asked and this time Sybil glanced at him, though he could not quite decipher her expression.  
“Wasn't about my wallet,” Vimes murmured. He reached into his pocket and got out a small silver box. Sybil gasped and then she leaned forward to kiss her husband, the cloth falling down onto the floor. Havelock could barely make out the words she whispered. “If you ever act so stupid again, Sam Vimes, I swear, I'll ….”  
Vimes just smiled and returned the kiss.  
Havelock took this as his cue and quietly left the room. He retrieved his cane from the back of the house and this time went through the gate. There had been enough excitement for one day. Of course, there was still the question of the assailants, but Captain Carrot would surely get a description and then they could take care of it. For now, the couple deserved a few hours on their own. 

~*~*~*~

The first thing the Patrician had done Monday morning was to set a bounty for the assailants. Now he was deep in the financial reports again and did not notice how the clock chimed eleven. A few minutes later there was a sharp knock on the door and Vimes came rushing in, breathing heavily.  
“Good morning, Sir, sorry I'm late. Seems everyone I meet on the street wants to talk to me and tell me how glad they are I'm back,” he sat down without waiting for a sign from Vetinari.  
“Well, half the city was looking for you. Lady Sybil and Captain Carrot did their best to motivate people to help in the search.”  
Vimes cleared his throat. “It's awfully nice, it's what it is. Makes me feel … oh, you know,” he waved his hand. “Anyway, I'm back. You have the plan for the visit of the Klatchians?”  
Vetinari blinked at him. “I sent it to Captain Carrot an hour ago.”  
“Oh. I see,” Vimes frowned. “There's also the repairs on the -”  
“Let me stop you,” Vetinari held up his hand. “I was expecting you take today off, at least.”  
“Why would I do that?” Vimes asked, crossing his arms. “I told you, I'm fine. Had a good meal, a good sleep ...”  
“If not for your sake than for that of your wife.”  
They stared at each other.  
“Is that an order, Sir?” Vimes asked eventually, tone strenuously flat.  
“If you need it to be.”  
“Fine,” Vimes snapped and got to his feet.  
“I'll know if you do not actually go home,” Vetinari added, deciding that a smirk would push it too far.  
Vimes glowered at him and stalked off, but when he reached the door he turned around again. “Actually, there's one thing … when I came home, Sybil and you were hugging.”  
Vetinari leaned back, steepling his fingers.  
“I just …,” Vimes took a deep breath, relaxing his posture. “I appreciate that you've been there for her. I know you have a history and it's good to know she has a friend who supports her.”  
“What exactly do you know?” Havelock could not stop himself from asking.  
“I know you were promised to each other as kids,” Vimes said, his gaze intend. “I meant to say thank you for that as well, you could have made everything quite difficult.”  
“And why would I have done that?” Havelock smiled thin-lipped. “Lady Sybil's well-being is important to me. Even if my position would allow me the joys of married life, I would not be a good choice to contribute to it.”  
“That's what you choose to believe,” Vimes said, and Havelock was sure he was about to say more, but Vimes did not. Instead, he saluted. “Thank you, anyway.”  
“You are quite welcome, Sir Samuel.”  
He stared at the door for a few minutes after Vimes had left and then had to make a conscious effort to return to his work. 

~*~*~*~

Sybil had not been happy to let Sam go in the morning, but she knew that her husband could not be stopped when it came to his work. So, when he came to the sanctuary before lunch, whisking her off towards home, she was pleasantly surprised (and made a mental note to thank Havelock the next time they met for tea).  
They had lunch and afterwards Sam helped her out in the pens2. Willikins brought them cake and tea out in the garden and then they decided to call it a day. Now, Sybil was stretched out on their bed, Sam curled up against her side and she slowly stroke through his hair while listening to his quiet snoring.  
She had tried to sleep as well, but there was too much going through her mind, the tension of the last days only just starting to ease. Sam was alright and safe and there was no reason to worry. Adjusting her position a bit, she pulled him closer and dropped a kiss onto his head.  
Sam had turned out to be a wonderful husband. He had stopped drinking the day they married and although she knew it was not easy for him, he had not once broken that silent promise. He worked too much, but while it was an intrinsic part of his self he took great care to make time for her. And she knew she had her own quirks, which Sam accepted gracefully.  
They had also told each other about their past, little anecdotes, as well as secrets that had not been spoken before. They were honest with each other3.  
There was just one thing that seemed to be between them. And she really was not sure if it was only imagined and if she would make a fool of herself if she asked.  
Havelock cared for Sam. He tried not to show it, but she had known him when he had been a small boy. For her, it was written clearly in his gaze and expression. She just did not know which form this care took, or had taken … And Sam, he took great care in stating again and again how much the Patrician annoyed him. It probably was true, but there was something spurious about it that spoke of a hidden depth.  
So, what if there was a past they both had not spoken about? A past that linked them in a personal manner?  
Sybil was a realistic woman. The past did not frighten her. It only irked her that Sam did not seem comfortable telling her about it, and that, as happy as he was when he was with her, she could sense something missing. And Havelock … he was a whole other matter. No one could be happy to only work, without anyone to confide in and relax with. He seemed content enough when they had their little chats, and she knew from Drumknott that he took great pleasure in spending time with his dog. The rumours about his private life were mostly exaggerated, but still, looking at his life something vital was missing as well.  
She kissed her husband's hair again and then closed her eyes, exhaustion finally catching up with her. She would not let the matter go, but for now she would be content to have her husband in her arms and hold him close.

~*~*TO BE CONTINUED*~*~

Vimes usually took the other one.1

With dragons exploding from time to time there was always something to repair. And while she was perfectly capable of using a hammer and nails, Sam took great pleasure in fixing things for her. 2

Apart from Sam's discretion when it came to the more violent parts of his work, but she understood his reasons, even if she did not approve of them.3


End file.
